Jack is Back V2
by Bill Hiers
Summary: Jack Case returns to Cape Suzette after five years in a Thembrian prison with vengeance in mind. Revised version of "Jack is Back" with some important but minor changes. Stop the press! Now complete!
1. Chapter 1

The short, slightly chubby rabbit entered Tiny's Grill to be immediately assaulted by the smell of tobacco and beer, not to mention the shouting and laughing of the various customers. Back when he was still a mailman, he would've avoided Tiny's like the plague unless by some stroke of bad luck he'd been forced to deliver a package there. Now, after the airfield and the boarding house, Tiny's was the first place Jack Case visited after setting foot in Cape Suzette for the first time in five years.

Tiny, if Jack recalled, was the enormous polar standing behind the bar. Gathering his courage, and turning the collar of his jacket up, Jack approached the bar. Tiny was in the middle of pouring a drink for a thoroughly intoxicated-looking pelican, who upon receiving his mug of beer shambled away from the bar, sloppily consuming the beverage. Jack noticed that Tiny wore an eye patch over his left eye. Tiny, who wasn't tiny in the least, took instant notice of Jack, and after eyeing him said, "What can I get ya?"

Jack swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "Actually, I don't want a drink. You're Tiny, right?"

"That's right," the polar bear said. "Now, if ya don't want a drink, then what do ya want?"

"Well, uh, I've come seeking some help with... something." Tiny raised an eyebrow at this, so Jack leaned in and whispered, becoming calmer the more he spoke. "I've heard the stories about your establishment are true. Word around the block is, you're frequented by a number of, shall we say, disreputable individuals looking for work?"

Tiny's manner changed instantly. He looked left, then right, and then signaled for another, shorter polar bear to come over. "Jimmy, take care of the bar for me for a sec. I've gotta talk some business with long-ears here." Jimmy nodded, and Tiny motioned with a sideways jerk of his head for Jack to head towards the back of the bar. As Tiny came out from around the bar, Jack saw that the large polar bear's injuries went beyond simply a missing eye. He hobbled on a cane, and his right leg had quite obviously been broken and had not healed properly.

Noting the rabbit's stare, Tiny said, "I had a little, uh, accident with some rowdy customers a while back. C'mon. We'll talk in my office." Nodding, Jack followed. He and Tiny walked to a door at the back, and the polar bear opened it, stepping inside. Jack followed and Tiny closed the door. The rabbit found himself in a small, messy office. Tiny, with some effort, sat on the edge of his large desk. He said, "So, what's the gag?"

"What do you mean?" asked Jack, genuinely confused.

Tiny laughed. "You don't exactly look like the sorta guy who'd wanna hire 'disreputable individuals', as you so smoothely put it," he said. "Whaddaya do for a livin', buddy?"

"My name isn't 'buddy,' it's Jack Case. I'm a mailman," Jack said matter-of-factly.

Tiny furrowed his brows and chuckled. "A mailman, huh? On second thought, maybe you are the type. But you sure don't look it. Anyway, business is business, right? Now, I ain't gonna why you wanna to hire some goons--"

Jack held up a finger. "Now, I never said 'goons'."

Tiny continued as if Jack hadn't spoken. "--all I'm gonna ask is, what's in it for me? I mean, pointin' a guy towards the services of half the guys out there ain't exactly legal, so, uh, I'll just ask for a small finder's fee, as it were." He brought his hand up, rubbing his fingertips against his thumb.

Jack sighed. Reaching inside his jacket he pulled a wad of bills out and handed them to Tiny. The polar bear grinned widely and thumbed through the cash for a moment, silently counting. "I basically need a couple of strong backs with small brains," Jack was compelled to add.

After "flipping" the bills with his thumb for effect Tiny stuffed them into his vest pocket. Wordlessly, he got up off the desk with a grunt and hobbled to the office door, opening it. Pointing out the door, he said, "You see those guys at that table there?" Jack joined him at the door, following the direction his finger was aimed in. He saw two large, muscular canines, a bulldog and a hound of some breed, sitting at a table talking and laughing. Jack nodded to indicate he saw them, and Tiny said, "I think they'll suit your needs just fine. But they don't come cheap."

Jack nodded again, glumly. He hoped he had enough money left to pay for the services of mercenaries. He asked, "So, uh, what do I do?"

"You really are new at this, ain't ya?" said Tiny. "Just walk up to 'em, and if they don't knock your lights out on sight, just tell 'em Tiny sent ya. That should get ya started. The rest is up to you, my friend." With that, he shooed the rabbit out of the office, shut the door behind them, and returned to the bar. On his own, Jack gulped nervously. Especially when that drunken pelican he'd seen earlier stumbled a little too close to the table of the two Tiny had indicated, spilling some of his beer into the lap of the bulldog.

Balling up his fist, the bulldog, Sparky, punched the pelican viciously in the beak, knocking him flat on his back. Jack approached, cautiously stepping over the unconscious drunkard, and stood before their table. He cleared his throat. They turned to look at him, glaring. "What do you want, bunny-boy?" Nigel, the hound, said threateningly.

Quickly, as though his life depended on it, and it probably did, Jack replied, "Tiny sent me." Sparky and Nigel blinked, looked at one another, and grinned. As with Tiny before, Jack observed, their attitude towards him changed the instant they realized there was something to be had.

With his foot underneath the table, Sparky pushed a chair out for Jack and said, "Have a seat, buddy, and we'll talk business."

This was it. The moment of truth. If he went through with this, there'd be no turning back. Jack sat down, scooting the chair up to the table. He looked back over at Tiny, who was behind the bar again, and the polar bear nodded to him. Turning back and leaning forward and grinning for the first time in a long time, he lent his elbows on the tabletop and steepled his fingers before his face, and said, "Do let's."

* * *

Kit Cloudkicker, walking home from school, was suddenly aware that he was being followed. Ever since he'd left the schoolyard and started walking back to Higher For Hire, he'd noticed a large hound wearing a floppy-brimmed fedora and a blue trench coat was always about a yard or so behind him. Every so often he'd glance back, and the guy would stop and act like he was doing something else, like buying a hotdog from a vendor or even buying some flowers, but each time Kit looked away and continued he could tell that he was being followed again. It wasn't like he was unused to dealing with criminals.

But the young bear couldn't help but feel particularly ill at ease with this one, primarily because he had no idea who the guy was! If it had been one of the Air Pirates or one of Trader Moe's goons, that he could handle. This unfamiliar face that seemed so intent on stalking him worried him to no end. Suddenly, as he rounded a corner, a sedan pulled up to the curb and screeched to a halt with such force that Kit literally jumped and almost dropped all his schoolbooks. A bulldog, equally as huge as the hound, got out from behind the wheel. He was wearing a brown trench coat and a fedora, and a loosened necktie. He had "thug" written all over him. Kit took a step back. "Yo, kid. Kit Cloudkicker, right?" the bulldog said, pointing at him. A shadow fell across Kit from behind and he glanced back to find the hound in the blue coat towering over him, holding a half-eaten hotdog and a bouquet of flowers.

Turning back to the bulldog, he said carefully, "Uh, no. You've got the wrong guy..."

"Oh, I dunno about that," Sparky said, leaning lazily against the open car door.

Kit's heart leapt into his throat. "Look, I dunno who you guys are or what you want with me, but if you touch me--!" Kit said defiantly.

The two huge canines chuckled. "Aw, is the widdle-bitty bear cub gonna clean our clocks?" snorted Nigel with a mouth full of hotdog, raining crumbs down onto Kit's head in front of him.

"C'mon, kiddo," said Sparky, pushing off the door and stepping towards Kit, reaching out with an enormous paw. "We're goin' for a little ride."

"Forget it!" said Kit. "I know what THAT means!" He suddenly felt Nigel seize him by the back of his sweater. "I said if you touched me I'll scream!" He yelled and turned, and STOMPED his foot down onto the hound's with an audible crunching sound.

"OOOOWWWW!" Nigel screamed, dropping the flowers and the hotdog. Kit then slammed him in the gut with his books, making him grunt and double over in pain. With a snarl, Sparky dove at Kit, who hopped aside. Unable to stop himself, the enormous thug crashed right into his companion, sending the two muscular would-be kidnappers to the ground in a heap. Kit laughed, but then noticed how quickly they recovered, already getting to their feet. He figured now would be a good time to run, and bolted across the street.

Since a small crowd had gathered to see what the commotion was about, Kit had no doubts that the two goons would not give chase. Even so, he didn't stop running until he got home. A final glance showed that his stalkers were no longer behind him, and he felt instantly relieved. As he approached Higher For Hire, he could see Wildcat tinkering with one of the Sea Duck's engines. Baloo was lounging in a lawn chair nearby, his cap pulled down over his eyes. Wasting no time, Kit dropped his schoolbooks and ran to his adoptive parent's side, grabbing the larger bear's arm and shaking him awake.

"Hmm, huh, what?" gasped Baloo, sitting up so suddenly his hat fell off and he almost toppled out of the lawn chair. "Aahhhh! Air Pirates!" Turning to see it was only Kit; he sighed and chuckled, patting the cub's baseball cap-clad head. "Oh, it's just you. What's up, kiddo? You look like you've been runnin'..."

"I have," Kit admitted, panting. "I was followed from school by some guy in a hat in coat! He was big, and really mean-looking too, like he could break me in half with his bare hands! And then another guy got out of a car and they knew my name, and wanted me to come with them! I finally ran, and I guess I must've lost them..." Getting out of the chair, Baloo stooped down and retrieved his hat, replacing it on his head. Turning back to Kit, he scowled. He looked skeptical.

Nevertheless an hour later, they were down at the police station speaking to the alligator desk sergeant, Kit telling the officer his story. When Kit finished, Baloo told the sergeant, "Basically, we'd like to see Detective Thursday."

The desk sergeant said, "Well, I'm sorry, but Detective Thursday isn't in at the moment."

"The devil I'm not!" a voice said, making them turn to see Thursday walking into the police station, dressed in his usual attire of a fedora, bowtie and grey coat. He frowned a bit upon seeing Baloo and Kit but then smiled and walked over, tipping his fedora back up on his head with his thumb. "If it isn't Mr. Alphabet Bandit himself," the old hound said with a chuckle. He and Baloo shook hands. "Amazing," he said. "Would you believe they're finally starting to let me use the front entrance. Now then Baloo, what can I do for you and young Master Cloudkicker here?"

"Well, uh--" Baloo began.

"I almost just got kidnapped!" Kit blurted out, cutting his Papa Bear off.

Thursday raised an eyebrow. "I see," he said. "Why don't we go into my office and we'll talk about this."

Baloo and Kit nodded and they followed the shorter canine detective into the bowels of the police station, where his office was located in the basement. Along the way Thursday explained that the department recently had to discontinue use of the secret rear entrance after customers kept complaining about use of a certain dryer being interrupted, not to mention losing entire loads of laundry.

As they entered the office they were greeted by its only other occupant at the moment, the uniformed canine patrolman Gertalin. "Hi, sir," Gertalin said, tipping his cap.

"Hi, Gertalin," Thursday said in return, then had Baloo and Kit sit down and tell him the entire story. When they were done he sat stroking his chin. "And you don't have any idea who these creeps were?" he asked.

Kit shook his head. "No sir," he said. "I've never seen them before, but they sure knew me."

"Then they were obviously working for somebody you fellas wronged in the past," suggested Thursday.

Baloo took his cap off, scratching his head. "That's a long list of names if there ever was one," he said.

"Well, I think we can rule out the Air Pirates, considering we haven't heard anything about any pirate activity recently."

"Um, sir," Gertalin said, coming over, "isn't the lack of any activity the reason you suspected something was up with Heimlich Menudo?"

Thursday said, "That was Heimlich Menudo, Gertalin. He's a criminal mastermind. Subtle is his middle name until he's ready to make his move."

Seeing what the detective was getting at, Baloo said, "The Air Pirates wouldn't know subtle if it hit 'em over the head with a two-by-four."

"Exactly," said Thursday, then got a notepad and began jotting stuff down with a fountain pen. "All right," he said, "here's what we can do. I can check to see if any of my boys out on patrol have heard anything about the disturbance. Shouldn't be too difficult if there were as many witnesses as you say, Kit." He finished and tore off the slip of paper he'd written on, handing it to Gertalin. "Get this to Malarky," he instructed him, then hurriedly jotted something else down and handed this to the patrolman as well, adding, "and this goes to the boys down in files."

Gertalin briefly examined the two notes. "Yes sir," he said and then left the office.

Turning back to Baloo and Kit, Thursday noted their questioning looks and explained, "I sent a note to Glover and Gibson down in files to start compiling some mugshots of guys we know to be involved in kidnapping and murder-for-hire."

Baloo swallowed nervously, putting his cap back on. "M-Murder?" he stammered nervously. Kit looked equally horrified.

Thursday held up a hand. "For the time-being we have to look at every possibility. And as unsettling as it is, we have to at least assume that's what those guys had in mind."

Kit nodded sullenly. "How long will it take?"

"To get all the mugshots together? I dunno. But there's no sense in making you boys wait here. So, I'll tell you what. Why don't you two go on home and get a good night's sleep, and then come back here in the morning? Since there doesn't seem to be any indication that these guys know where you live I think it's safe, and by then my boys and I should have all the stuff compiled."

Kit sighed. As he and Baloo left the police station, Baloo to smiled sympathetically and put an arm around Kit. "Hey, don't worry, Little Britches. If those guys come 'round our place lookin' for trouble, I'll be sure and have a heart to heart with 'em." He smirked and punched his fist into his open palm.

"Thanks," Kit said, sounding relieved that Baloo at least was taking his fears seriously. After a moment, he said, "What about Miss Cunningham? Shouldn't we let her know about this?"

Baloo yawned and stretched. "Uh, sure thing, Little Britches. We'll give her a call first thing in the morning, all right?"

* * *

Jack Case was nervously pacing his room in the ratty flophouse he'd rented shortly after arriving in town. There was a knock at the door, making Jack jump. Being a rabbit, he nearly hit the ceiling. He went to the door, grabbing the handle but not opening it. "Who is it?"

"It's us," said the person on the other side. Sparky. Jack sighed and opened the door, admitting the two canine goons. Nigel came into the room and Sparky closed the door after him. Jack noticed that Nigel was holding a half-eaten hotdog in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

"What in the name a'..." grumbled Sparky, also noting this. "You gettin' ready for a hot date or somethin'? What's with the flowers? I told you to forget them things, ya doof!" Nigel blinked stupidly, then looked down at the bouquet as though he only now noticed it even existed. "Oh, those," he said, throwing them down.

Jack rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. "Where's the boy?" he said, raising one of his bushy gray eyebrows.

The two goons looked at one another. "Uhhh," said Sparky, scratching his head under his fedora. "Well, we followed 'im from school like you said, Mr. Case, but he kind of... gave us the slip."

"Probably because you were too busy stuffing your ugly faces and buying flowers, you idiots!" Jack roared, slapping the hotdog from Nigel's hand in a sudden burst of rage that made the two huge goons wince visibly.

Looking down at the hotdog, Nigel whined, "Awww, not again..."

"That kid would've given us a lot of leverage," Jack added. "if I had Kit Cloudkicker as my prisoner, I would've been able to force that fathead bear to do whatever I wanted!"

"Sorry, Mr. Case," said Nigel, removing his fedora and nervously wringing it in his hands.

Jack sighed. "We'll just have to go to Plan B, then," he said at length.

The two canines nodded eagerly, then paused and exchanged confused glances. Finally, Sparky said, "Uh, what's Plan B? Are we gonna bump 'em off?"

"No, fool," said Jack as he walked over and retrieved a duffel bag from its hiding place behind the bed. Its contents were unknown to the two hired guns, as Jack had thought out Plan B long before he even set foot in Tiny's Grill. "Plan B is something I came up with while I was rotting on Bedeviled Island," Jack said, grinning as he patted the duffel bag gently. He'd dreamed about it for five long years. The contents made either hollow metallic banging noises or liquid sloshes, both muffled by the fabric of the bag. "We're not bumping anyone off," he added as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

The two goons looked disappointed. "Aw, shucks, Mr. Case," said Nigel.

Sparky said, "Well, if we ain't gonna be bumpin' 'em off, what's in the bag?"

Jack grinned darkly, heading for the door, treading on the dropped flowers as he went. "You'll see, gentlemen. You'll see. Now, let's go. I know of a dumpster we can hide in until nightfall."

He opened the door and walked out. Sparky followed. Nigel paused to grab the other pistol, and the hotdog from the floor, which he proceeded to stuff into his mouth. Hurrying out after the other two, he whined, with his mouth full, "But I don't wanna hide in a dumpster!"

* * *

Later that same night, Baloo was fast asleep in bed, when loud clanging sounds awakened him. Sitting up in bed and groggily rubbing his eyes, he looked around. Nothing was amiss in his bedroom, so he went to the door. Opening it a crack, he could see the light was on downstairs. His initial thought was that it was just Becky stopping by to do some late-night work. Miss Cunningham was, after all, a workaholic. This was quickly put to rest when he heard unfamiliar voices.

"No, you idiot, I said spread it liberally! Don't just dump it all in one puddle on the floor."

"Sorry, Mr. Case."

Case? Baloo tried to place that name, but couldn't. The first voice sounded familiar, though. Putting that aside for now, he quickly dressed, careful not to wake Kit, and then grabbed a baseball bat.

Down below, Jack Case stood observing his hired goons doing what they did best. Nigel stood pouring gasoline around on the floor from a metal gas can, while Sparky was using a crowbar on the enormous safe that sat to the right side of the room. After succeeding in wrenching it open he looked inside and discovered stacks bills. Grinning, the bulldog started grabbing handfuls of money and stuffing them into his coat pockets, muttering, "Oh yeah, come to papa!"

"Take what you can, then burn the rest," Jack instructed as he walked over to where he'd set the duffel bag down.

"Burn it, Mr. Case?" asked Sparky, looking confused, holding wads of cash in either hand.

"Yes, burn it!" Jack snapped. Unzipping the duffel bag he reached inside and pulled out another gas can, holding it aloft for Sparky to see. "This isn't about money. It's about getting even."

Chewing his lower lip, Sparky hurriedly stuffed the pockets of his trenchcoat to overflowing with the money. Jack tossed him the gas can, and he then began to pour the contents onto the remaining stacks of money within the safe. Between this and Nigel emptying his can around the room - liberally, just as Jack had instructed - the smell of gasoline soon filled Higher For Hire. It was this smell that caught Baloo's nose as he appeared on the landing overlooking the main room with the baseball bat in hand, his head swimming briefly.

He watched the two goons. He was so focused on them he wasn't really paying Jack Case much mind. After soaking the interior of the safe, Sparky began to spread the gasoline around on the floor, while Nigel tossed his now-empty can aside and retrieved another one from the duffel bag, dumping this one's contents onto Rebecca's desk. Deciding that he'd seen enough, Baloo snuck down the stairs, quiet as a mouse, until he reached the bottom. The three crooks were so preoccupied with their work they did not notice Baloo's presence until he loudly cleared his throat.

"All right," Baloo said, approaching them. "What's goin' on here? What're you two gangster movie rejects doin' in my business!" The goons suddenly whirled around, wide-eyed. Neither replied. They merely looked nervously at the bat he was holding and exchanged uneasy glances. Baloo stepped closer to Sparky, jabbing him in the chest with the bat and making him grunt. "Hey! I asked you a question! Why're you pourin' gasoline all over my floor?"

"It should be obvious even to you, Baloo," Jack said. Until this point he'd been obscured from Baloo's view by Nigel. But now the rabbit stepped out from behind the huge goon, and Baloo's jaw fell open. Jack stood beside Nigel, hands in his coat pockets.

"You!" Baloo cried. "No, it can't be..." Suddenly Sparky grabbed the bat while Baloo was distracted being shocked and managed to wrench it from the bear's grasp. Baloo had no time to react when Sparky swung the bat and hit him sharply in the back with it, pitching him forwards. He landed face-first on the gasoline soaked wood floor. He wheezed and coughed, the blow having literally knocked the wind out of him. Rabbit feet filled his vision as their owner stood over him, frowning down at him. Baloo suddenly remembered where he'd heard the name Case before. "Why are you doing this?" he stammered, fighting to keep himself conscious. What was Jack Case doing here, now, in Higher For Hire, in the middle of the night, after five years of not a word?

Jack laughed. It was an evil, hateful laugh. "Sorry," he said, grinning down at Baloo, "but that's on a need-to-know basis." His smile faded and he suddenly kicked Baloo in the side, making him grunt in pain. "All very hush-hush!" He snapped his fingers and Baloo felt himself lifted up by the two goons. Before one of them smashed him over the head again with one of the gas cans and knocked him out, he heard Jack instruct them to put him into the trunk of their car if he would fit, and then to get the matches. The last thing he could consciously take in was being dragged out the front door of Higher For Hire and being stuffed into the trunk of a waiting automobile.

Kit emerged from his room at this point, in time to look down and see Baloo being dragged from the building by the two massive goons. The same two guys who had tried to kidnap him earlier! He didn't know what to do. "What about the kid?" asked a first voice which Kit recognized as belonging to Sparky.

"Bring him, too," said a second voice that Kit did not recognize. Running back into his room, the bear cub threw his usual green sweater on and then threw a pre-made sheetrope out the window, and climbed down to the first floor. He knew that when the goons came for him, they'd see the sheetrope and know he had escaped, but he'd be long-gone by then. Sure enough, no sooner had his feet touched the ground outside than he heard voices upstairs in his room.

"He ain't here!" cried Nigel as he and Sparky burst into the bedroom.

"That's 'cause he escaped out the window, Einstein," said Sparky, pointing to the sheetrope tied to the bed. The goons went to the window and looked down, but saw no sign of Kit. They then headed back downstairs and out the front where Jack was waiting by the sedan. "No go," said Sparky as they walked up. "The kid must've heard us 'cause he slipped out the window."

Jack sighed, rubbing his temples. The goons tensed, awaiting another chewing out, wondering idly why they were putting up with this manic rabbit, but Jack simply shrugged. "Oh well," he said. "We don't need Cloudkicker now that I have Baloo." Grinning, he turned and patted the trunk of the car, then turned back to the goons. "And with him as leverage, I can get my revenge on good Miss Cunningham." The goons grinned and nodded, always happy to cause some mayhem and destruction.

Kit peeked around the corner of the building, watching them. He only caught bits and pieces of the conversation, and although he recognized the two goons he did not know who the rabbit was and was still no closer to fathoming what possible vendetta he could have against Higher For Hire. He watched as Jack then reached into his pocket and drew out a matchbook. Walking to the open front door he struck one, tossing it inside the building. It landed and immediately ignited the lake of gasoline, and Jack grinned maniacally as he watched it set fire. "Ashes to ashes," he said, backing up as the flames got bigger and bigger. Kit was forced to move away from the building, but this movement went unnoticed by Jack and the goons because of the roaring fire now taking place inside Higher For Hire.

"Burn," Jack said, clenching his fists, eyes wild. "Burn, burn, burn!"

Sparky approached and put a hand on Jack's shoulder, making the rabbit jump. He turned and smacked the goon's hand away reflexively. Undaunted, Sparky said, "We better get outta here before the cops show up!" Then he and Nigel headed back to the car.

Jack nodded, staying a moment longer to watch the fire rising to begin consuming the second floor of Higher For Hire, before laughing and dancing and twirling back to the car. Sparky and Nigel got into the front seats, Sparky behind the wheel. Jack got into the back seat, and a moment later the car started up and tore off.

Suddenly, none other than Wildcat came running, and before Kit could stop him and ran inside the burning building. A moment later, he re-emerged with his clothes on fire.

"Yeeeeeeeow!" he hollered. "Hot, hot, hot, hot!" He quickly fell to the ground and began to roll around to put out the flames.

After making sure the lion mechanic was still breathing - and he was, thankfully, not seriously injured at all - Kit shook him. Sitting up and rubbing his head groggily, Wildcat said, "I-I dunno. I think so. Some guys-- I saw 'em loadin' stuff into the car and I ran inside to look for Baloo, but I couldn't find him! I-I think they musta taken him with 'em."

"We've gotta get help!" Hurrying away from the swiftly-burning building, the bear cub ran, as fast as his feet would carry him, to the nearest telephone he knew of, to call the fire department.

* * *

The next morning, Rebecca Cunningham was fixing breakfast and waiting for Molly to finish getting awake, so she could send her daughter off to school and get to Higher For Hire and see whether or not Wildcat had finished repairing the Sea Duck. They had some important deliveries to make to Macadamia. She was just about to go and see whether or not Molly, in her reluctance to attend school, had fallen back asleep, when there was a knock at the door.

She went to answer it, and found a pair of uniformed police officers.

"Miss Rebecca Cunningham?" Officer Gertalin asked.

"Yes?"

"Rebecca Cunningham who owns, uh," Gertalin paused and looked down at a scrap of paper with something hastily jotted down on it that Rebecca couldn't really make out, "who owns, uh, Higher For Hire?"

This didn't bode well, Rebecca realized. "Yes, that's me. What's this all about? Who are you two?"

They exchanged glances. Officer Malarky said in his thick Irish accent, "Miss Cunningham, I'm Officer Malarky, and this my partner Officer Gertalin." He gestured to Gertalin, who gave a small nod, stuffing the scrap of paper into his pocket. Rebecca finally recognized Gertalin as being one of Detective Thursday's men, while Malarky was the pig officer who had once mistaken Baloo for a member of Babyface Half-Nelson's gang.

We've got some terrible news," said Gertalin.

"Well, quit stalling and tell me," Rebecca snapped.

Once again, the pair exchanged uneasy glances, and finally Malarky said, "Ma'am, we're going to have to ask you to come with us. Higher For Hire burned to the ground early this morning."

Rebecca fainted dead away, thudding to the floor as the two policemen looked on.

* * *

Higher For Hire was still smouldering by the time Rebecca Cunningham drove to the docks. Officer Malarky had insisted that she accompany him and Officer Gertalin in their car, but Rebecca had insisted right back that she drive herself, so instead she followed the officers.

They were waiting for her with Detective Thursday when she arrived. Molly was in the car with her; Rebecca had let her come as she knew there was no way she'd be able to convince her daughter to attend school on a day like this. Likewise, her efforts to persuade Molly to remain in the car were futile, so the 11-year-old followed close at her mother's heels as she approached Detective Thursday and his officers, who were conversing. They were whispering, and although Rebecca couldn't make out what they were saying, she could see that Thursday was gesturing to Kit and Wildcat standing nearby as he spoke.

All conversation between the three halted as Rebecca arrived. As Rebecca spoke, she tried her best to keep her gaze focused on the police officers and not look at the ruins of Higher For Hire, the business she'd worked so hard to get off the ground and had run for more than five years.

Finally, Detective Thursday spoke. "Miss Cunningham," he said, "I'm so sorry."

Rebecca nodded and hugged him. It was all she could do to fight back the tears she knew were struggling to break free.

Thursday removed his fedora as Rebecca let go of him. Gertalin and Malarky did the same with their officer's caps. All three of them looked like mourners at a funeral. Which was appropriate, Rebecca thought, seeing as how her business was now pretty much dead. Thursday said, "Well, the fire department got the call at about six this morning, and got her as soon as they could, but..."

Rebecca nodded as Thursday trailed off, finally forcing herself to look at what was left of Higher For Hire, which wasn't much really. The building itself was almost completely gone. She could see some fire fighters investigating the wreckage. Rebecca asked Thursday, "Do they know what caused the fire?"

Thursday returned his fedora to his head as he became all business once again. "Well, the fire chief said it was definitely arson. The fire started real quick, and was so big that even though they got here in time, there was nothing the firemen could do."

"Arson!" Rebecca gasped. Her mind reeled so much she actually had to reach up and place a hand to her temple, and she felt faint. Sensing this, Detective Thursday immediately came forward and gently took her by the arms. "Oh, God..."

"Miss Cunningham, do you need to lie down?" asked Gertalin. Warm sympathy flowed from the officer's mouth.

"No, you idiot!" Rebecca snapped, making Gertalin jump back in surprise and slam into Malarky behind him. "How could I possibly lie down at a time like this!"

She suddenly felt something tugging at her pants leg and look down to find Molly looking up at her with wide eyes. "Mommy," she said, "please don't yell at the nice men. They only want to help."

Rebecca immediately regretted shouting at Gertalin. The officers were showing her nothing but kindness and understanding, and she had no right to snap at them this way. "I-I'm sorry, Officer Gertalin," she said to the uniformed canine, who nodded to let her know he understood. "It's just that, I can't believe someone could do this!"

"It's all right, Miss Cunningham," Gertalin replied, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. Malarky, peeking out from behind his partner, was rubbing his snout and scowling.

"Anyway," said Thursday, bringing them back on-topic, "you may have noticed us deep in conversation when you drove up? Well, the news keeps coming, as it turns out. Young Master Cloudkicker back there claims he saw the guys who did this. He says he got a real good look at 'em, too." Rebecca swallowed, looking over at Kit who was still standing alongside Wildcat, looking on as Rebecca was speaking with the three police officers, and suddenly she began to wonder where Baloo was.

"Now," Thursday continued, taking a notepad and pencil from inside his trenchcoat, poised to begin jotting stuff down, "here comes the fun part. Since the fire chief said it was deliberate arson, Gertalin, Malarky and I need to know... do you have any enemies? The kid saw the goons, but it'll help our investigation immensely if you could help us put names to those faces."

Meanwhile, Molly wandered over to where Kit and Wildcat were. Kit was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. He wasn't crying, but Molly could tell he had been recently. Wildcat patted the youth's head. "Hey don't worry, Kit," he said, "I'm sure that Baloo's fine."

Kit nodded absently as Molly approached. He felt miserable, to say the very least. Today was the day he was supposed to go and get his pilot's license, and instead he was wallowing in misery having lost both his Papa Bear and Higher For Hire. What bothered him the most about the whole situation, though, was that he had no idea who those three men were or why they would possibly want to burn down Higher For Hire. He, Baloo and Miss Cunningham had their fare share of enemies, but none of them would ever be so bold or callous as to deliberately do something like this short of Don Karnage and the Air Pirates. And not only were those idiots incapable of making it past the cliff guns except for once every blue moon, but Kit had been a member of the Air Pirates and knew them all by name, and neither the rabbit last night nor his two canine companions from before looked familiar to Kit.

He briefly entertained the notion that perhaps Don Karnage had hired mercenaries, but quickly changed his mind. He knew Karnage, and Karnage did everything by himself and with his own men, or not at all. Kit finally decided not to dwell on it for now; seeing as how none of them had any clue who could want such horrible revenge on Higher For Hire, the best thing to do for the time being was to let the police handle it.

"Kit?" Kit looked over to find Molly standing beside him. She hugged him. "I'm sorry about Baloo," she said. Kit nodded and returned the hug.

At this point, Rebecca walked over with Detective Thursday. "Kit?" she said. "I've given Detective Thursday the names of anyone who might want to hurt us, from Don Karnage to Trader Moe to that creep Covington. But since you and Wildcat are the only ones who saw them..." She paused, trailing off, her arm going around Molly and gently pulling her daughter to her. Kit knew what she was getting at anyway. Besides, he was supposed to return to the police station to look at mugshots today anyway. He'd hoped they'd have gotten done before it was time to take his flying test, but sadly...

"All right," he said. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Later, at the police station, Kit was busy going through dozens and dozens of mugshots of various criminals. He looked at the clock. It was almost noon; had everything gone smoothly, he would've been in the middle of his pilot's license test by now. He mentally scolded himself for being sad about THAT at a time like this, when Baloo was gone and poor Miss Cunningham had lost everything.

Wildcat, meanwhile, was going through the mugshots with a little more gusto than Kit. He had s stack of about twelve of them in one hand. He'd look at one, toss it aside, examine another from every conceivable angle, and then discard that, until he was pretty much just digging through the photos and slinging them all over the place, going, "No. Nope. That's not him. Nuh-uh."

"Mr. Wildcat," said Officer Malarky. The pig officer was sitting across the table from both him and Kit, sans his cap, lazily sipping on a mug of coffee. "Could you please be a little neater? Detective Thursday will have my head if he comes in and finds the office looking like a mess."

Wildcat paused in the middle of his work, then turned and looked at all the mugshots on the floor, and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," he said, rubbing his head. "But anyway, none of these ugly pictures any of the three guys I saw last night." As he said "three," he held up four fingers, making Malarky roll his eyes.

Detective Thursday walked in at this point, wearing his fedora but not his trenchcoat. He, too, sipped on some coffee. "How's it going, guys?" he asked. No one answered, Thursday stood there in the doorway, looking at the mugshots strewn all over the office and the disappointed expressions on the other three. "That bad, huh?"

Kit nodded. "I'm sorry, Detective Thursday," he said.

"Hey, don't sweat it, kid," Thursday said, walking over to Kit and patting him on the shoulder. He took his fedora off and put it on the young bear's head, and then sat down beside Officer Malarky across from them. Kit smiled, pushing the brim of the hat back with his thumb just as the detective had done the other day.

"Well," said Thursday finally, "it was worth a shot. But I guess that not every single scumbag you guys have tangled with in Cape Suzette is on our list, unless your forgeting somebody. Thanks for coming down anyway, you two. Even though we haven't got a clue who we're supposed to be looking for, you can tell Miss Cunningham that my boys and I will do our best to get to the bottom of them."

"We don't want to trouble you boys any more," added Malarky. "So why don't you run along home?"

Kit nodded, getting up and removing the fedora and handing it back to Detective Thursday.

"Uh, hey Mr. Detective, sir?" Wildcat asked suddenly. "What about this guy?" He held up a mugshot of a scowling bulldog. Kit instantly recognized him.

Kit leapt forward and snatched the mugshot from Wildcat's hand and looked at it more closely. There was no mistaking that face. "This is one of them!" he said excitedly.

Thursday and Malarky were already down on their hands and knees gathering up the multitude of discarded mugshots. They stopped what they were doing and turned to look at him.

"Malarky!" Thursday suddenly said, and the pig officer dropped what he was doing, literally, spilling mugshots all over the office floor once more as he rushed to the elder detective's side. "Take this down!"

"Okay, okay," Malarky said, patting himself down in search of his notepad and a pencil. Finding one, he then got poised to write anything down.

Thursday took the mugshot from Kit and studied it a moment. "Oh, I know who he is. His name's Sparky," he said. "His partner is a fellow by the name of Nigel. We've never had too much trouble with either of them, since it's rare they pull off anything big. They mostly deal in kidnapping and extortion-for-hire. They're professional mercenaries."

As Malarky hurriedly jotted down this information, Kit scratched his head. "How does that help us find Baloo?" he asked.

"Easy," said Thursday, grinning. "Sparky and Nigel hang out down at a rotten joint called Tiny's Grill."

"Tiny's Grill?" gasped Kit, remembering the grill from before when he, Baloo and Miss Cunningham clashed with Babyface Half-Nelson. "I remember that place."

"Bingo!" Thursday said. "Now, if we can just find out who their boss is, we'll really have something to go on. To do that, though, we're gonna have to head on down to Tiny's!" He jumped up and said to Wildcat, "Come on, I'll get my coat. Come on, we'll go over there."

"Oh, boy!" squealed Wildcat, clapping his hands. He then paused, blinking. "Uh, where are we goin'?"

"To pay Tiny a visit," said Thursday, throwing his trenchcoat on. "Malarky, take young Master Cloudkicker home or wherever it is he wants to go. Don't leave his side whatever you do."

"Right," said Malarky.

"I wanna come, too," said Kit.

"No way, kiddo," Thursday said as he headed for the exit. "It's too dangerous. You stay with Officer Malarky no matter what, you understand?"

Kit sighed and nodded. "Yeah, okay."

* * *

"Comfortable, Baloo?" These were the first words Baloo heard when he finally regained consciousness. The first thing he noticed was that he was sitting in a wooden chair, to which he was being tied by Sparky and Nigel.

"Tell me if the rope's too tight," Sparky said, and deliberately tightened the rope enough to make Baloo wheeze in slight pain.

"Wh-where am I?" the bear asked, dazed. Looking around, Baloo could see they were in a cheap motel room or boarding house of some sort. Once the two goons were finished tying him securely to the chair, giving the pilot some unwelcome flashbacks to the last time he was kidnapped, the stepped back to reveal Jack Case lounging comfortably in an identical chair opposite.

"You're safe," Jack said, sipping on a bottle of soda pop. "For the time being."

Baloo growled. He remembered this two-timing rabbit from five years ago. The one who'd lied about being a spy, and gotten them into all that trouble in Thembria. "What are you doin' here, Case?" he snarled, pulling uselessly at the ropes which bound him to the chair. "Last time I saw you, you were still tryin' to deliver that stupid box of expensive fishing worms to the High Marshall."

Jack took a long swig of his soda before setting it aside on the nearby table. Rising from his chair, he motioned to the two goons. "Out," he said.

"But Mr. Case," began Sparky, looking at Baloo nervously. It was obvious he didn't like the idea of leaving his employer alone with the bear, who was at least as big and strong as he was.

"No buts! Wait for me outside," Jack growled, grabbing the two hulking canines by the scruffs and shooing them out the door, slamming it shut after them. "Sorry about that," he said to Baloo. "They're not the brightest crayons in the box, especially Nigel. Now then, what were you saying?"

"I said, what are you up to, Case?" Baloo demanded, still glaring at the rabbit.

Jack laughed. "I've hired some vicious criminals to assist me in taking my long-delayed revenge against you, Miss Cunningham and Higher For Hire. Which burned to the ground, by the way." He shook his head, clucking his tongue. "Tsk-tsk-tsk. What a shame."

"R-revenge?" snarled Baloo, incredulous. "Revenge for what? We never did anything to you!"

Up until this point the gray-furred rabbit had been civil, but at Baloo's outburst his expression darkened considerably, and with a snarl uncharacteristic of rabbits, he lunged forwards and seized Baloo by his shirt collar, shaking him roughly. "Don't you dare say that to me! Don't you dare! Not after I spent five years rotting in Bedevilled Island Maximum Security Prison, all thanks to you and that she-devil Rebecca!"

Baloo blinked. "But, we didn't--"

"You told them I was a spy!" Releasing Baloo, Jack added, "No matter what I told them, nevermind that the box had fishing worms and not a bomb, I was locked away, caged like an animal!"

"Look, Case-- Er, I mean Jack. Yeah, Jack. Look, buddy, there's gotta be an easier way to do this..."

"Sorry," said Jack, opening a drawer in the table and removing a bottle of clear liquid and a white handkerchief. "But it's already gone too far. You and Miss Cunningham took away five years of my life, and now it's time to pay the piper." Jack proceeded to lightly soak the handkerchief in the clear liquid. "Now then, my associates and I have to go and pay Miss Cunningham a visit. I need both of them to assist me, so I can't leave anyone to guard you. Hence... it's naptime again for Baloo."

He walked over and covered Baloo's mouth and nose with the soaked cloth, and instantly the room began to spin and Baloo passed out for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. This was shaping up to be a really, really bad day.

To Be Continued ...


	2. Chapter 2

Ernie Grapple waited in the malt shop with his three friends Skip, Orville, and Humphrey, who were a rabbit, stork, and hippo respectively. Today was the day that Kit Cloudkicker was supposed to have completed his pilot's license course with the old creep, "Love to Flunk 'Em" Throgmorton.

Ernie and the gang had planned to meet Kit at the malt shop afterwards to celebrate, as Ernie was certain that Kit of all people could complete that course with even "Love to Flunk 'Em" Throgmorton as his instructor. After all, he'd learned from the best, and although there was a time when Ernie would have mocked Kit for idolizing a simple cargo plane pilot like Baloo, the lanky hyena and his three cohorts had come to respect Baloo after he saved his life from that loony scientist, Dr. Axelottle.

But now, as it was getting on noon, they sat at their usual table by the window - Frank the soda jerk was nice enough to reserve it for them - but there was no sign of Kit. A bunch of empty and half-empty malt glasses and sundae bowls sat on the table, that the four teens had ordered so they could have something to slurp on to pass the time.

"So where is he?" Humphrey finally said, breaking the silence finally. Until he spoke the only sounds had been Skip sucking noisily on his straw. Orville, for his part, didn't say a word and looked half-asleep.

"You already asked that like five times, genius," said Ernie, "and like I told ya before, I don't know. When are you gonna quit askin'?"

"Until he shows up, stupid," said the hippo, indignant as he got from his chair and went to the counter. "I'm gonna buy me another soda."

"Get me one, too!" said Skip, sucking noisily on his straw again and prompting Ernie to snatch the decidedly empty glass away from him.

It was only two years after Skip, or "Skippy" as they once called him, joined that they decided they were too old for a "club" like the Jungle Aces, prompting Ernie to, somewhat pompously, declare them an official "gang" now. Gone were the cooking pots and colanders, in was casual dress.

"You keep eatin' those things and you're gonna explode!" Ernie said, prodding Skip in the stomach lightly with his finger.

As Humphrey was returning with three more sodas on a tray - two for himself and one for Skip - Kit finally came into the malt shop. Ernie was amazed he'd actually gotten there at all. A minute later, a pig wearing a policeman's uniform entered the shop and stood behind the young bear, looking mildly intimidating.

"Kit!" he exclaimed. "Where in the heck have YOU been! We've been waitin' all day for ya! What happened to celebratin' you gettin' your pilot's license?"

Kit looked listless. "Sorry, guys," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he looked down at the floor.

"Well, how'd it go?" asked Humphrey, serving the new round of sodas.

Ernie said, "You didn't flunk the test didja?"

Kit shook his head, "I never even took the test." Before his friends could respond, he told them the whole story. About how he'd been followed home from school, about how Baloo had gone missing, and about had happened to Higher For Hire. The four boys were speechless. "I missed the test 'cause I was busy looking at photos trying to pick out the three bozos that did it," he finished as he went and sat at the counter.

Ernie pointed at the pig, "And who's this joker?"

"Officer Malarky," the pig replied in a thick Irish accent. "I've been assigned as young Master Cloudkicker's escort due to potential danger to his physical well-being."

"Say what?" Humphrey asked, blinking.

"He means he's Kit's bodyguard, stupid," said Skip.

"Eh, basically," said Malarky. "But only temporarily."

He then walked to the counter and sat beside Kit, as Frank served them both sodas. Malarky immediately set to work on his, while Kit didn't touch the one the soda jerk placed in front of him. He was too miserable to think of food, and he wished Officer Malarky would just go away. In the back of his mind, he understood the need for the detective's presence at his side for the time being, but at the moment Malarky was a painful reminder of what had happened.

Similarly, he wasn't that keen on Ernie and the gang being there, and found himself wondering what he was doing in the malt shop in the first place. Finally, he took a sip of the soda, and felt a little better.

"Case, Case, Case," he said quietly to himself, trying to place the name, but couldn't. Although he had every confidence in the police, he couldn't just sit here and do nothing, waiting for those crooks to make another grab at him. He had to do something; anything! he HAD to know the identity of this mysterious foe that had intruded upon his life and taken away his chance to fly AND his Papa Bear! He turned to his "baby-sitter," and cleared his throat. "Officer Malarky?"

"Hmm?" Malarky said, in the middle of drinking his soda. After swallowing he said, "What is it?"

"How exactly does this whole bodyguard thing work? I mean, do I have to do what you say, or do you just follow me around wherever I go?"

"That depends," the pig officer replied. "You only have to follow my orders if your life is in immediate danger. Say one of those creeps came in here lookin' to snatch you. Then if I told you to run and hide, you'd have to. Otherwise, yeah, I guess you're free to go wherever you want to, provided that I accompany you no matter what."

Kit pondered this for a second. "All right," he said, "then I wanna go back to Higher For Hire, or... at least what's left of it."

"Why? What for?" Malarky asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, what for?" Ernie chimed in as he, Skip, Orville and Humphrey suddenly crowded around Kit and the cop.

"I need to check something out," Kit replied as he got up from his seat and headed for the door.

Grumbling, Malarky hurriedly threw some shaboozies at Frank and got up, hurrying after his young charge. "Look, kiddo," he said as he finally caught up to him on the sidewalk outside, "the whole 'do what the bodyguard says' thing also implies to perceived dangers. You wanna play junior detective, fine, but I'd prefer you not go back someplace that the perpetrators have already visited."

"Humor me," Kit said sourly, narrowing his eyes at the pig. "Why would they come back to a burned-down building crawling with cops?"

Malarky scratched his head under his hat. "Okay, you got a point, kid, I'll give ya that. All right, I'll drive ya back to Higher For Hire, but at the first sign of trouble we split, got it?"

"Got it," Kit said, smiling.

As he and Malarky were walking to the patrol car, Ernie came trotting out of the malt shop, with Skip, Orville and Humphrey hot on his heels. "Wait for us!" he hollered, making Kit and Malarky turn. "We're going too!"

"Yeah!" the other three said in unison contemptuously, making Kit smile despite his glum mood. Some things never changed.

"Aw, no!" protested Malarky, holding his hands up. "No way! I'm not gonna be responsible for all you boys!"

"No way, copper," said Ernie. In a flash, he and the others were piled into the back seat of the detective's car. "Kit's our buddy! And besides, this is all way too good not to check out first-hand!"

Malarky groaned and palmed his face. He didn't have time for this. There was no way he could force all four teenagers out of his car, and he'd look foolish calling for backup in a case like this. Finally, he gave in. "Fine," he muttered. "But like I told Kit; first sign of trouble and we vamoose. ALL of us. Got it?"

After the four boys had shouted unanimously in excited agreement, Malarky and Kit got into the car. Malarky started the motor, and they were off. Officer Malarky was a good guy, Kit thought. He hoped nothing did happen that would require Malarky to put his life on the line for him, and although Kit was conflicted about potentially placing his caretaker into harm's way, there was something he HAD to check for. The name "Case" rang a bell, and there was one thing he was sure could potentially shed some light onto the situation, and it was in Papa Bear's old newspaper collection.

Meanwhile, halfway across town, Detective Thursday and Wildcat arrived at Tiny's.  
As they got out of the car, Wildcat looking at the sign above the entrance and asked, "Who's Tiny?"

"He owns this dump," Thursday said contemptuously as he walked around to the trunk of the car and opened it. Reaching inside, he removed a trenchcoat and hat. "I always keep a spare in case of emergencies," the detective said. Suddenly he tossed the articles of clothing at Wildcat, who caught them. "Put these on," Thursday instructed as he closed the trunk, then approached the entrance to the tavern.

"Uh, why?" asked Wildcat even as he was putting the fedora on his head and slipping on the trenchcoat.

"Because, since I don't have any of my guys with me you'll have to substitute," Thursday explained as he removed his revolver, checked it, then returned it to his shoulder holster concealed under his coat. "Just don't say anything or do anything."

"Right," said Wildcat, turning the collar of the trenchcoat up and buttoning it to hide the fact he was wearing mechanic's coveralls instead of the usual dress shirt and tie normally associated with plain-clothes officers. "Wow," he said, "I feel like Humphrey Dogart in this getup."

Thursday stared at him for a moment, fighting back the urge to burst out laughing at the mechanic, who was obviously enjoying himself. "Okay, let's go," he said.  
And with that, they entered Tiny's. Tiny's only really came alive at night, and during the day was actually pretty dull. The only customers in the pub right now were a pelican and a couple of badgers, obviously seamen or dockworkers from the nearby dock district. Tiny himself was behind the bar. He eyed the two trenchcoat-clad figures with his one good eye as they approached.

"What can I do ya for, fellas?" he rasped.

"Wow," said Wildcat, staring up at the huge polar bear. "He's not tiny at all! You should think about changin' your name!"

Ignoring Wildcat, Thursday said, "Hiya Tiny. My, uh, partner and I wanna have a little chat with you."

"Yeah," said Wildcat, trying to sound intimidating.

Tiny gave Thursday a disarming smile. "Well, well, well," he said, "if it ain't Detective Thursday. What's it been? Two years? And I see you got yourself a new partner, too. Although by the look of him I'd say he was a rookie."

"Oh, yeah," Wildcat said, grinning from ear to ear, "I just started today in fact."

Tiny raised a brow at this, then turned his attention back to Thursday. "Can I offer you a drink on the house, Detective?"

"Can it with the pleasantries, Tiny," Thursday said, "I don't exactly have time to shoot the breeze with you, so I'll be blunt: I need some information."

"Oh really? What about" Tiny put his massive hands on the bar and leaned over closer to Thursday.

"Your old pals Sparky and Nigel are wanted for questioning in a pretty nasty case of arson that happened last night," replied Thursday.

Even Wildcat noted the brief glint of recognition in the polar bear's eye at the mention of those names. "And lemme guess," Tiny said, "you wanna know where they are, right?"

"Not exactly. I happen to know they're apparently been hired by somebody named 'Case,'" said Thursday. He put his hands on the bar now and leaned forwards until the tip of his snout was a mere two inches from Tiny's nose. "The name doesn't ring any bells, by any chance, does it?"

"Nope," said Tiny flatly. "And anyway, why're you askin' me?"

"Because you have a pretty bad reputation for putting desperate people into contact with some pretty unscurpulous hired guns. Now, either you tell me what I wanna know, or else I'll have have the precinct down here before you can blink your one good eye. Savvy?"

"Why don't you crawl back to the filthy basement you came from?" said Tiny, any pretense of friendliness gone now.

"That wasn't a nice thing to say!" Wildcat said, frowning. "You guys are mean! And mean people never get ahead in life. So c'mon, let's all sit down and be friends and talk over some coffee, whaddaya say?"

Tiny turned and glared at him, then looked back at Thursday. "Fine," he said, clearly not wanting any trouble with the law. "But remember, you didn't hear any of this from me."

"Right," said Thursday.

"I didn't catch the guy's name," Tiny said, and then, noting Thursday's scowl, hurriedly added, "It's the truth! Anyway, I put 'im in touch with Sparky and Nigel. And there was a lotta suspicious talk about Thembria..."

Jack Case sat in the back seat of the car parked on the curb outside of the small grocery store that was just down the street from Rebecca Cunningham's apartment building. While they waited, Jack felt another migraine coming on, and took out his bottle of painkillers, dumping several of the pills into his hand and then stuffing them into his mouth, chewing them noisily.

After a time, Rebecca Cunningham did emerge from inside the store, carrying a large bag of groceries, followed by that little girl of hers whose name Jack didn't know, nor did he really care at the moment. Or so he thought. As the young bear cub held the door for the uniformed dog police officer, who came out carrying two large bags of groceries, Jack frowned. Just what he needed. The police.

"Is that her?" asked Sparky, sitting behind the wheel.

"Yeah, that's her," replied Jack, rubbing his hands together and actually licking his lips in anticipation, resisting the urge to let loose a mad cackle. "We'll follow her back to her apartment building, and then we'll grab her!"

"But what about the cop and the little girl?" asked Nigel, seated beside Sparky up front.

"Take the girl if you can, knock out the cop if you have to," Jack said, leaning forwards in his seat and prodding his finger into the back of Nigel's neck, making the hound yelp. "But remember, no killing!"

"Uh, rright, Mr. Case," whimpered Nigel.

"Come on, come on," Kit intoned as he stood in the phone booth, silently begging Miss Cunningham to pick up. He'd been trying for the past five minutes to reach her at her apartment, but nobody was answering. Where could she be? He hoped that with the policeman that Detective Thursday had assigned to watch her, she would be safe, but he would feel a heck of a lot better if he could just get in touch with her and let her know that he knew - or at least thought he knew - who was behind the whole ordeal they were being put through.

As he waited impatiently in the phone booth, listening to the endless rings, Kit looked outside to where Officer Malarky and the others were waiting. Ernie stood expectantly beside the phone booth, while Skip, Humphrey and Orville were both reading the newspaper article they'd driven all the way across town to get. Malarky, for his part, was leaning against the front fender of his car, arms crossed, looking bored.

Finally, when Kit decided that there was no point in waiting for Miss Cunningham to pick up the phone, he hung up and exited the booth.

"Any luck?" asked Ernie.

"No," replied Kit, scratching the back of his head. "She must be out."

"Yeah, well, so am I," said Ernie, patting himself down, "of nickels, anyway."

"If it's that important," said Officer Malarky suddenly, "why don't I just drive you boys to Miss Cunningham's apartment building?"

"I was just about to say something like that," Kit said, smiling.

"Well, then, I think we should quit lollygagging and get on over to Miss Cunningham's apartment and let her know that this Case guy has got it in for her."

"Right," said Kit.

Together, they all piled into Malarky's car and sped off with the siren wailing.

"Thank you so much, Officer Gertalin," Rebecca said as she, Molly, and the policeman rode the elevator up to the floor of the apartment building where they lived.

"No trouble at all, ma'am," Gertalin said, holding a bag of groceries in each arm.

After telling Detective Thursday everything she possibly could, Rebecca had gone straight home with Molly, who was currently holding a miniature grocery bag of her own as she had insisted on her mother at the store. Detective Thursday had been insistent, as well, that Officer Gertalin accompany Rebecca and Molly home, just in case the criminals responsible for Higher For Hire's destruction tried to get her while she was at home.

However, Rebecca had flat-out refused to simply sit in her apartment and wait for something to happen. She had to do something, anything, to keep herself occupied, so she had talked Officer Gertalin into letting her leave the house to go to the bank, and then to the market.

She hadn't paid much attention to the strange car that seemed to be shadowing them as they walked down the street, until it burned rubber and sped on ahead, with Gertalin remarking that the driver was asking for a speeding ticket. Neither she nor the officer had noticed the same car parked outside the apartment building when they arrived. But who could blame them? There were a thousand cars exactly like it throughout Cape Suzette.

Rebecca almost regretted that she'd gotten her shopping done, because it meant that once they got back to the apartment and put up all the groceries, she'd have nothing to do but sit and wait for either Thursday to call with some news about the case.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open open her floor, and Rebecca walked to the door. After unlocking it, she went inside, Molly and Officer Gertalin close behind her. Immediately Rebecca sensed that something was wrong. The lights were off and the curtains were closed. She'd left the lights on and the curtains open when they'd left earlier, of that she was certain. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Officer Gertalin suddenly looked suspicious as well. She was about to ask the officer whether or not they should leave when when suddenly someone else was in the room with them, slamming the front door closed.

Officer Gertalin spun, dropping one of his grocery bags, and Rebecca heard a muffled smacking sound, like someone being hit. Sure enough, Gertalin went stumbling backwards past her, crashing into an armchair and flipping it - and himself - over, spilling groceries everywhere. She heard Molly scream.

Dropping her own bag, Rebecca ran to a table lamp and turned it on. It didn't illuminate the entire room, just the foyer, but that was all Rebecca needed to see. She beheld two enormous canines, a hound and a bulldog, wearing fedoras and trenchcoats, standing between her and the front door. The hound was holding a squirming and whimpering Molly in the air by the back of her shirt. Rebecca's heart leapt into her throat.

The bulldog spoke first. "Rebecca Cunningham, I presume," he said.

Rebecca nodded shakily, unsure of how to express with words the feelings of anger and fear that mixed inside her. Without a doubt, these were the ones responsible for burning down Higher For Hire, and now they had come into her home, and had her daughter.

"Thought so," the bulldog said, grinning.

She backed up, almost tripping over the prone form of Officer Gertalin, who was laying unmoving alongside the overturned armchair. For a moment, Rebecca thought, irrationally, that the policeman was dead. "Officer Gertalin," she whispered, desperately. "Wake up!" But the policeman did not respond.

The bulldog walked towards her, reaching out with enormous hands that looked capable of crushing her head like a grapefruit. Speaking of grapefruits, she tripped on exactly that, one of the many items that hd spilled from the numerous dropped grocery bags. With a cry, she fell backwards and landed on her backside. She looked up to find the bulldog standing over her. He looked ten feet tall in the dim light.

"You're comin' with us," he said.

"Yeah," added the hound, who hadn't moved from where he stood by the door. "Or else the little girl gets it!"

Rebecca felt her anger overtaking her fear. "You leave Molly alone!" she yelled.  
At that very moment, Jack Case was waiting in the back seat of the rented car parked outside the apartment building, checking his watch and wondering how long it was going to take those two idiots to grab that one woman. Finally, losing his patience, he got out of the car and went inside.

Molly, meanwhile, wasn't about to go quietly. As she dangled in the hound's grip, she suddenly declared, "This looks like a job for Danger Woman!"

"Danger Woman?" the hound said, blinking. Molly's teeth suddenly sank into his hand, making him shriek and drop her to the floor. "YEEEEOOOOOWWWW!"

Molly landed hard at her ex-captor's feet, but shook the dizziness off and stood. The hound was jumping up and down, clutching his bitten hand and whimpering, muttering curses under his breath. Molly quickly kicked him in the knee, and down he went with a loud thud, crashing to the floor. In response, the bulldog spun around around, wide-eyed, giving Rebecca the opportunity she needed. She was on her feet in a flash, and jumped onto the goon's back, yanking his fedora down over his eyes, and began to pound her fists into his head.

"Hey! I can't see!" he yelled. "Ow! Stop that!"

"Molly! Run!" Rebecca yelled as the bulldog tried unsuccessfully to pull her off of himself.

Molly looked indecisive. "But, Mommy"

"Do as I say!" Rebecca screamed, harshly. She'd apologize for yelling at her. Right now she wanted her daughter out of this apartment NOW.

Beside Molly, the hound was sitting up, shaking his head. This was all the persuasion Molly needed, as she bolted for the door, turned the knob, and was in the hall. As she went, she yelled over her shoulder, "Don't worry, Mommy! Danger Woman will get reinforcements!" She bumped into Jack Case in the hallway.

"Hello there, little girl," he said, crouching down to be at her level.

"A-are you a policeman, llike Mr. Thursday?" Molly asked nervously.

The rabbit grinned widely, and nodded eagerly. "Uh, yeah! Exactly like Mr. Thursday. I'm, uh, Detective Case. Yeah, Detective Case. Don't worry, you're safe with me." He suddenly reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Where's your badge?" Molly suddenly demanded, backing away from him as she remembered how Detective Thursday had shown her his badge.

"My what?" said Jack. His eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. "I, er, left it at home."

But he wasn't quick enough for Molly. She backed up further. "You're not a policeman!" she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Y-you're one of the bad men!" She realized she was right when Jack's expression darkened and he became angry.

"Come here, you little brat!" he growled. He spread his arms wide and dove at her, but she ducked and crawled between his legs and then ran down the hallway quicker than he was able to turn around.

Inside the apartment, Rebecca was still clinging to the bulldog's back. "Ow! Owie, owie, owie!" he yelped as Rebecca continued to pound on him. "Get this crazy dame offa me, Nigel!"

"Duh, okay Sparky!" Nigel, the hound, said, rushing forwards. He was much bigger than Sparky the bulldog, and Rebecca knew there was no way she could even hope to break away if he managed to get ahold of her, so she dismounted from Sparky, ducked under Nigel's swinging arms, and grabbed the table lamp she'd turned on earlier, and flung it at Nigel as he was in the process of spinning around to face her.

The lamp collided with his head and shattered, plunging the room into darkness again, although from the light flooding in through the open front door Rebecca could see as the big hound stumbled forwards and crashed into Sparky, sending both would-be kidnappers crashing to the floor. She didn't wait to see whether or not she'd succeeded in knocking them out, turning and running through the front door and into the hallway, just about slamming into Jack Case, who caught her arms.

"Hello, Rebecca," he said. "Long time, no see. How've you been?"

"You! What are YOU doing here?" Rebecca demanded, struggling, but Jack's grip was like a vice.

"Aw, what's wrong? Aren't you glad to see me?" he leered, chuckling.

She stomped on his foot, making him yelp and release her, and then she shoved him backwards. He stumbled, but didn't fall. Just at that moment, she heard the sound of scuffling feet and spun to see both huge goons come stumbling out into the hall, Nigel without his hat and rubbing his head groggily, while Sparky was still trying without success to pull his hat back up from over his eyes. Pointing at them, Nigel said, "There she is!"

Outside, Detective Thursday and Wildcat pulled up in Thursday car, parking alongside Jack's, although they didn't know it yet.

All the talk about Thembria and a mysterious Mr. Case made Thursday suddenly anxious to check in on Gertalin and see how Rebecca Cunningham was doing.

"Wow," said Wildcat, still in his fedora and trenchcoat "disguise." "I could get used to this detective-type stuff, Mr. Thursday. I hope we'll catch those bad guys real soon!"

"Me too," said Thursday as they got out of the car and started towards the building. "Which is why I brought you along, remember?"

"Yeah," the lion mechanic replied. "'Cause I can identi-ma-fy the suspects. And believe me, Mr. Thursday, I got a reeeeeeally good look at 'em." To emphasize, he pulled his lower eyelid down so his eyeball bulged creepily from its socket.

Suddenly, none other than little Molly Cunningham came out, tears flowing from her eyes. "Wildcat!" she said, suddenly smiling with what looked like mixed joy and relief, running and leaping into the mechanic's arms.

"Molly-cat!" Wildcat said, hugging her. "What's wrong, why're you crying?"

"There's bad men in our apartment!" she said breathlessly. "The-they're after Mommy!"

Wildcat looked questioningly at Detective Thursday, who suddenly reached into his trenchcoat and pulled his revolver. "Come on!" he said, and rushed for the emergency stairs. "We'll take the stairs! No way these goons would use the elevator!"

"You wait here, Molly-cat," Wildcat said, setting Molly down gingerly. "We'll go save Rebecca for ya!"

He then turned and trotted after the detective, and the two disappeared around the corner of the building, headed, Molly knew, for the door where the emergency stairs were. Molly sniffled and rubbed her nose, worried sick, hoping that her mother would be all right.

Back upstairs, Rebecca was struggling as Sparky and Nigel held her between them. Sparky had managed to finally pull his hat up from over his eyes. With his arms folded behind his back, Jack Case marched up to the captive bear woman and sneered at her. "Didn't expect to see me again, didja?" he said. "Thought you'd seen the last of old Jack Case?"

"Look, buster, I had completely forgotten about you in the five years since you tricked me and Baloo into flying your sorry butt to Thembria," Rebecca said. More fiercely now, she said, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because of what you did to me! Because of what you caused to have happen to me!" Jack said. "I was arrested and held as a spy, and even when I was able to prove I wasn't a spy, they still threw me into prison anyway, for violating one of their idiotic laws. Something about needing a permit to try and give the High Marshall a present."

Rebecca sighed. She hated when villains did this.

Jack continued, "It was the worst five years of my life! I ate nothing but hot steam, the warden used me to pedal his ceiling fan, I got stuck in the sweatbox, and worst of all, the showers! Oh, my God, the showers! Every horrible rumor you've ever heard about the showers in Thembrian prisons is true!"

Rebecca blinked, not liking where this was going. "You don't mean...?"

"I DO!" Jack cried. His eyes narrowed and he suddenly shuddered visibly with disgust. "Mildew. Oh, it was awful!"

She rolled her eyes. "Look, Jack, anything bad that happened to you, you brought on yourself! You lied to us, you ran away and left us like a coward! You almost got us killed, all just to try and deliver one lousy package! You deserved those five years in prison!"

Jack suddenly grabbed her face, hissing, "Nevertheless, I will have my revenge!"

At that moment, the stairwell door burst open and Detective Thursday and Wildcat emerged. Jack, Rebecca, and the goons spun around, startled. Acting quickly, Jack grabbed Rebecca and yanked her out of the goons' grasp, holding her in front of himself, using her as a shield as Thursday trained his revolver on them. "Back!" he said. "Get back!" Blinking, Thursday lowered the revolver and nodded, backing away slowly. Wildcat did the same.

"You're only making this worse for yourself, Jack," Rebecca said, suddenly trying to sound sympathetic. She figured if she appealed to his better side, provided he had one, she could persuade him to give up. No dice.

"Shut up," he said, maneuvering her towards the stairwell, Sparky and Nigel following at a distance. "You're my ticket outta here!"

Suddenly none other than Officer Gertalin emerged from the open apartment door, gun in hand, looking disoriented. "Freeze!" he yelled, aiming his pistol at the kidnappers and firing. He missed by a mile, the bullet hitting the top of the stairwell doorframe and splintering the wood.

"Go!" Jack yelled, shoving Rebecca ahead of him, forcing her to run down the stairs, Sparky and Nigel right behind them.

"Gertalin, no!" yelled Thursday, stopping his confused officer from firing again. "They've got Miss Cunningham held hostage!"

To be continued... 


	3. Chapter 3

"Move it!" Jack Case yelled as he herded a bound Rebecca along the docks near the smouldering remains of Higher For Hire, a tommygun in one hand. Behind him, Molly was being carried by Nigel, while Sparky herded Baloo along with a tommygun of his own. Their destination was the Sea Duck.

As the bears were forced aboard, Rebecca demanded to know, "Just what exactly are you planning on doing with us, now that you have us?"

Jack smiled and said, "You'll find out in due time."

Suddenly they heard an approaching. Looking out the door they saw a sedan speeding towards the docks, a wailing police car right behind.

"The police!" Jack growled. "Shut the door!"

Tossing Molly rather carelessly aside, Nigel turned and pulled the door shut with a clank.

Jack handed his tommygun to the large thug, telling him, "Watch them closely." With that he shoved Rebecca to fall alongside her daughter. "Mr. Baloo," he said, turning to the grey bear, "the cockpit, if you please."

He gestured. Baloo glared at him, but the muzzle of Sparky's gun made him reconsider and he walked into the cockpit where he was untied. At Jack's direction he started the engines up. Jack, grinning, slid into the co-pilot's seat.

Outside, Detective Thrusday's sedan, with Wildcat and Kit riding shotgun and Ernie and the gang crammed into the backseat, careened wildly towards the docks. They could see the Sea Duck's propeller's revving up, sputtering and spewing sparks, before finally turning over and spinning powerfully.

"They're getting away!" cried Kit as he watched the yellow plane beginning to pull away the docks. The two cars slid to a halt alongside the ruins of Higher For Hire, and everyone piled out. Officers Gertalin and Malarky got out of the other car, and aimed their revolvers at the retreating plane.

"No!" cried Thursday. "You might hit the fuel tanks!"

The two officers grunted but didn't fire.

"Now what do we do...?" Ernie wondered aloud.

"We follow them!" Kit declared, even as the Sea Duck lifted off from the surface of the water and took to the air. "We can't let him get away!"

"How?" asked Humphrey the hippo.

Thursday snapped his fingers. "I got it!" So saying, he turned and ran back to the cars. "Well don't just stand there, come on!" he yelled.

Less than ten minutes later, the police department's harbor patrol plane was airborne and zooming along towards the canyon that marked Cape Suzette's sole entrance to the open ocean, into which the Sea Duck had already disappeared. Aboard were Kit, Wildcat, Detective Thursday and the kids.

"Can we catch 'em?" Kit asked worriedly, peering over the pilot's shoulder.

"Provided this thing goes fast enough!" the pilot said.

"And if we can get 'im before he hits international waters," added Thursday.

"What?" Kit said, turning.

Thursday looked solemn. "That's right, kid," he said. "Once that plane hits open ocean our jurisdiction ends. We won't legally be able to chase after Case anymore."

Kit gripped the back of the pilot's seat a bit tighter, praying silently that they caught up to the Sea Duck in time. The police plane flew nimbly through the narrow canyon before shooting out the other side, and there was nothing but open ocean as far as they could sea, except for...

"There, at twelve o'clock!" cried the pilot, pointing.

Kit squinted. It was the Sea Duck! They were still within reach! And what's more, the police plane was gaining rapidly. Kit was suddenly thankful Wildcat hadn't given the engines any proper tuneups in a while.

"I don't like this," Thursday said. "Once he notices we're gainin' on 'im, who knows what he'll do to the hostages...?"

"Well, why don't we surprise him?" the pilot suggested. "I could use those cloud banks as cover and get over 'im before he even noticed what was goin' on."

"Do it!" Kit and Thursday said together.

The plane flew higher and into the clouds. Kit left the cockpit and went to the window, where he, Ernie and the other kids all peered out the window. At first there was nothing but puffy white clouds obscuring everything, then, occasionally, they caught fleeting glimpses of the Sea Duck about twenty feet below.

"Everybody hang on," the pilot said. "I'm gonna try an' see if I can force 'im into a water landing!"  
He dipped the stick forwards, sending the plane into a slow descent.

In the Sea Duck, Baloo grudgingly flew the plane along. He occasionally glared at Jack, who was reclining comfortably in the seat beside him, smug in the presence of the gun-toting Sparky who hovered threateningly over Baloo the entire time. Every so often the rabbit would annoy the bear by randomly pushing buttons on the control panel, sneering, "What does this one do, huh? How 'bout this one?"

"Quit it!" Baloo snarled, slapping Jack's hand away as he had five years before. He suddenly got Sparkly's tommygun shoved in his face. Although scared at first, he soon mustered his courage, realizing there was no way these idiots would be dumb enough to kill him. Using this to his advantage, he said, "Look, Case, you want me to fly this thing, right?"

"Uh-huh," Jack replied, indifferently.

"Well, why don't you let me do my job without annoyin' me?" Baloo said. "And tell your big stupid goon to back off, too! I might just lose my nerve and send us spirallin' down into Davy Jones' locker."

Jack frowned, but nodded to Sparky who lowered the gun. Baloo relaxed a little.

"Where're we goin' anyway?" he finally asked. "And don't gimme any of that 'hush-hush' crap, neither!"

The rabbit smirked. "Thembria, as before."

"Thembria?! What for--oh wait a minute, I get it..." Baloo trailed off, glaring at Jack.  
"Get what?"

"You wanna take me and Becky and frame us for some kinda crime over there and get us stuck in Bedevilled Island Prison, right?"

Jack clapped. "On the button!"

"You're a bit late for that!" Baloo snapped.

"Oh, I know all about your time spent there, and how you helped Professor Crackpotkin try to destroy Thembria's gruel reserves," Jack said. He jabbed a finger into Baloo's arm. "Colonel Slammer has quite a big reward for your capture. You can consider Rebecca a....bonus."

Baloo would've punched him right then and there, goon or no goon, but they were all suddenly jostled by a reverberating thump that shook the entire plane. Baloo gripped the stick tightly, while Jack was pitched forwards, Sparky grabbing the back of the pilot's seat.

"They're usin' artillery on us!" cried Nigel from in back, where he was guarding the tied-up Rebecca and Molly.

"Don't be stupid, moron!" Sparky said. "We're too far from the cliff guns."

"Quiet!" Jack commanded. "Listen!"

Everyone did so. Baloo was the first to hear it, a muffled noise coming from above them. Plane engines. He, Jack and Sparky turned and looked out the right-hand side of the cockpit and upwards to see a slim plane that said Cape Suzette PD on the side of it; the side door was open and Detective Thursday, holding onto hid fedora, was yelling through a megaphone.

"This is the Cape Suzette Police Department!" he bellowed. "Turn your craft around and fly back with us to the city, or we're gonna force you down!"

"He means it," Baloo said, hoping the threat of the intimidating Thursday would make Jack back down. No such luck.

"Lose them!" Jack said.

"What?!" cried Baloo.

"I said lose them!" snarled Jack, and leaned over, grabbing the wheel himself and pulling it back. Everyone aboard cried out as the Sea Duck suddenly climbed.

"No, that's up!" Baloo yelled.

In the police plane Thursday watched wide-eyed as the yellow seaplane flew up towards them. "Hang onto somethin'!" he cried.

The collision cracked the windshield of the Sea Duck's cockpit and crumpled the roof, and sent the police plane spiralling out of control. The pilot struggled to regain control but couldn't, and smacked his head against the window, knocking himself out. Kit slid into the cockpit as the plane dipped down and started for the ocean. Seeing they were about to crash he had a moment of panic before remembering Throgmorton's flight school. Unable to unbuckle the unconscious pilot quickly enough, Kit simply sat in his lap and grabbed the wheel, and, grunting, pulled back on the stick, pulling the small plane out of its deadly dive moments before it struck the water!

Once they had climbed to a safe altitude again, Kit breathed a sigh of relief. Thursday, pantng, clapped a hand on his shoulder. "That was pretty impressive, kiddo!" he said.

"Yeah, way to go, Kit!" cheered Ernie and the kids.

"I'll take over over, Thursday said, getting into the co-pilot's seat and switching the controls over. As Kit looked worriedly at the pilot, the detective said, "He'll be all right, don't worry. But we're not outta the woods yet. Case is gettin' closer to international waters and unless we can catch 'im before then..."

Kit wasn't paying attention anymore. Instead he went to the door, which was still open, and looked out. The Sea Duck flew along nearby, maybe ten feet below. The other boys watched him a bit worriedly. "Kit, what're you doin'?" asked Ernie.

Suddenly seeming to intuit was Kit was thinking, Skip cried, "No, Kit, don't!"

But Kit had already made up his mind. He wasn't going to let this lunatic rabbit take away his family. He was tired of being trampled on by people who thought they could push him around just because they were bigger or meaner than him. So before any of the other boys could stop him, he unfurled his airfoil and leaped out of the plane.

This was the easy part. He'd done this hundreds of times when he was younger. His feet touched the foil and he surfed the airstream down towards the Sea Duck, landing hard on the roof with a grunt. He almost slid off, but managed to dig his fingers into one of the indentations caused by the crumpling of the rooftop. The airfoil however flew away, as did his baseball cap. He tried to grab it, but it slipped from his fingers and went fluttering away. He looked up to see the police plane still above them keeping pace with the Sea Duck.

Now came the hard part. Namely, getting inside. Hearing a loud clank, he looked over and saw the smaller goon, which wasn't saying much, Sparky, appear over the side of the plane. He glared at Kit as his fedora flew off, the hoisted himself up onto the top of the plane. Kit gulped. He was wrong. This was going to be the hard part.

He stood, shaky from the impact of his landing. Sparky came at him, swinging his massive arms. Kit ducked under them. If he'd learned anything from his years of going up against huge muscleheads like this, it's that while they were big and strong, they tended to be slow and clumsy. Sparky was shaping up to be no exception. The huge goon stumbled, then turned, and swung his fist, clocking Kit in the jaw.

And sometimes, Kit knew, they got lucky. He staggered back and fell down onto the nose of the plane, grabbing hold of the windshield frame. Through the cracked glass he saw the shocked faces of his Papa Bear and that rat of a rabbit, Jack Case. Then a foot slammed onto his fingers and he screamed in pain. Sparky laughed as he frounded his heel into the boy's fingers, threatening to break them...and his life-supporting hold on the plane.

But Baloo came to his Little Britches' rescue. While Jack was busy watching out the windshield he suddenly turned the stick to the right sharply. Inside, Rebecca and Molly cried out, as did Nigel who was flung hard against the wall with a loud bang. Outside, Kit almost flew off, but kept his hold, while Sparky, with a yelp, stumbled back and landed on his back. Kit climbed back up, but so did Sparky, and the huge goon took advantage of the boy's disorientation to seize him by the front of his sweater and fling him right off the roof!

Kit's life was saved by the plane wing, which he banged into, hard. Even as he was getting up, the wing shook from the impact of Sparky jumping down onto it. He glared at Kit, necktie fluttering. This fight wasn't over yet. Kit, his short hair whipping about in the wind, did his best to defend against the canine twice his size as the two grappled, Sparky seized Kit's throat and shoved his head towards the spinning propeller.

"End of the line, kid!" Sparky snarled.

This was it, Kit thought. Kill or be killed. Get his head chopped into paste and leave Papa Bear and the others at the mercy of guys with no qualms about murder....or do whatever it took to save them.

He chose the latter. Sparky was surprised at the sudden strength the boy found, and with a lunging motion Kit pushed the goon back, and off the wing. Sparky yelped, grabbed at Kit, missed and proceeded to go spinning off into the air with a short cry, disappearing from sight through the clouds.

Kit was struck speechless. He'd never killed anyone before. Not even in self-defense. He felt cold. And angry. Angry at himself, and angry at Jack Case for putting him in a situation where he'd been forced to take a life in order to defend himself. With renewed determination to put an end to whatever it was that lunatic rabbit was planning, the young bear mustered his courage and strength and climbed back on top of the plane, and began making his way towards the opposite side, where he knew Sparky had left the door hanging open.

Jack shifted uneasily in his seat. Although they heard a lot of thumping and bumping out there, it wasn't clear who was winning. However considering that Sparky was a massive musclebound mercenary and Cloudkicker a lanky teenaged schoolboy, it was a pretty one-sided fight no doubt. Still there was always the slight chance the kid could beat Sparky.

Sitting beside him, Baloo was also shifting uneasily. He was deeply worried about Kit. How had he even gotten on the Sea Duck? What was he even doing on that police plane in the first place? The father in him was simultaneously worried for Little Britches' safety, and angry that Kit had put himself into so much danger, especially when their enemies this time were so formiddable. Although they were basically just guys with guns, they weren't the perpetually incompetent buffoons like the ones in Karnage's crew. Jack was severely unhinged mentally and bent on revenge, and that made him dangerous.

In back, Nigel was recovering from the blow he'd taken from being flung against the wall, and he staggered a bit, tommygun in hand, and went to the door, which was still open.

"Sparky?" he called.

Suddenly a small figure swung in: Cloudkicker.

"What the--?!" cried Nigel in alarm, making both Jack and Baloo turn in their seats.

"Kit!" Molly cried jubiliantly.

Kit was panting, glowering, looking angrier than Baloo had ever seen him. He looked close to tears. Considering there was no sign of Sparky, Baloo had a pretty good idea that Kit had had to do something severe in order to save himself. They'd have to have a long talk when all this was over. If they even made it out alive.

And for a split second it looked like they weren't going to. Nigel raised the tommygun and fired. Kit however leapt to one side; the bullets came so close he felt them whizz past his ears. He ducked and did a somersault as the goon spun and kept firing, perforating the metal deck plates. Molly screamed and clung to Rebecca who was trying to think of something to do.

Kit's roll took him to the cockpit door, where, as he stood, he was suddenly clubbed over the head by the butt of Jack's revolver, and he fell to his knees.

"All right that's enough!" Jack roared, grabbing Kit by the collar of his sweater and hauling the dazed boy to his feet. He pushed the barrel of the gun against Kit's temple. "Enough! Now, we're almost in internation waters, and by tonight we'll be at Bedevilled Island with any luck. Now any more funny business, and I swear I'll--"

"You'll what, Jack?" Rebecca asked, cutting him off. "Murder an innocent boy? Just to get some petty revenge for a situation you got yourself in!"

For a moment Jack looked, and felt, uncertain. Deep down he doubted he had it in him to kill anyone, but part of him felt as though he'd come too far. He had only one goon to protect him now, and if anything happened to Nigel, he was finished. Even if he made good on his threat, the others would overpower him and probably throw him out. He was finally beginning to see what a bad idea all this was, and wishing he'd brought more goons.

"I..." he trailed off. His hand shook.

Baloo realized that now might be the only time to do anything to save himself, Kit and the others. Taking a deep breath, he turned the steering wheel hard to the right. Jack, still holding onto Kit, yelled and flew sideways crashing into the doorframe of the cockpit. He released the dazed Kit who fell facefirst on the floor. At the same time, Baloo put the Sea Duck on autopilot as fast as he could, got out of his seat, and tackled Jack with his full body weight, throwing him to the floor. The revolver flew out of his hand and went sliding across the floor.

Nigel managed to keep his balance and glowered, aiming the tommygun at both of them and preparing to fire, apparently fed up with the whole affair. Rebecca jumped up. Nigel spun towards her, blinking in surprise. Still tied up she flung herself at the massive goon and crashed into him.

"Mommy!" Molly yelled.

Rebecca felled sideways with a grunt, while Nigel fell backwards out the open door with a shrill scream that faded away rapidly.

"Molly," Rebecca said, "come and untie Mommy, hurry!"

It was fortunate Jack and his goons hadn't thought to tie Molly up at all. With her hands free she was able to begin undoing the ropes that bound her mother.

Meanwhile Jack and Baloo still struggled. Baloo being so much bigger meant the rabbit was hopelessly outclassed. Baloo hauled Jack to his feet, and punched him so hard he went spinning away and crashed to the floor alongside Rebecca and Molly. Baloo ignored him for now and stooped down to inspect Kit. He was alive, and conscious, just stunned. Baloo very gently shook him.

"Kit? Kit, are you all right?" he said.

"Y-Yeah," the teenaged bear cub replied, sitting up. "My head hurts, though."

Baloo hugged him tightly, then turned and glared at Jack who was sitting up, dizzy. He rose and stomped towards him, but he was beaten there by Rebecca who, untied, seized the rabbit by the lapels of his jacket and dragged him to his feet.

"You sleazy piece of filth!" she spat, shaking him. "How dare you burn down MY business, threaten MY daughter, and think you can get away with it?!"

She swung him around so he was half in, half out of the open door.

"I ought to drop you," she hissed. "Send you to join your two friends in swimming home!"

Jack's eyes bulged with terror. He'd never been more terrified before in his life than he was now being held out of this plane by this woman. "No!" he managed to squeal, even though he didn't actually expect any mercy. "Please, don't!"

Baloo was looking a little worried. The most he wanted to do was rough the guy up. Knocking the other two out to their deaths in the heat of the moment was one thing, but deliberately dropping someone out of a plane didn't sit well at all with him. He put a calming hand on Rebecca's shoulder, as he had the last time she held Jack like this, in Thembria.

"Becky," he said, "don't."

Rebecca turned and looked at him, then back at Jack who whimpered. "Oh stop it," she sneered. "I said I ought to. Not that I was going to. What kind of person do you think I am?"  
With that she pulled Jack back inside and flung him against the far wall. He groaned and slid down into an unconscious heap.

Then, she turned and she hugged Baloo, tight, as he reached over and pulled the plane door shut and locked it. A moment later the two of them went to check on Kit who was sitting up and rubbing his head.

"You okay, Little Britches?" Baloo asked softly.

"Yeah, I think so," he replied. "I think I'm gonna have a goose-egg for a month, though."

"That was a darn stupid thing you did, jumpin' on top of the plane like that!" Baloo snapped. "You coulda been killed!"

After a second his voice softened and he said, "But I'm glad you're okay. You probably saved all of us from a stint in Bedevilled Island Maximum Prison. Which is where we ought drop him off first thing before we head home, seein' as how we're on the way there now, anyway." He jerked his thumb at Jack.

"Are you nuts?!" Kit said suddenly. "This whole thing started because he blamed you guys for him ending up there."

"Kit's right," Rebecca said with a sigh. "I don't want to have to go through this again." She hugged Molly close to herself. "We'll hand him over to Detective Thursday when we get back to Cape Suzette. Not to the Thembrians again."

An hour later the Sea Duck pulled up to the dock in front of what used to be Higher For Hire. Awaiting them were Thursday and his men, plus Wildcat, Ernie and the other kids. Baloo emerge first, holding a dazed Jack Case by the back of his suit. He thrust him at Thursday.

"I believe this is yours," he said with a chuckle.

"Jack Case, you're under arrest for arson, kidnapping, theft of a plane, and...well, that's really about it," Thursday said, shoving Jack into the waiting arms of Gertalin and Malarky, who quickly handcuffed him.

Gertalin cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh, right, and assaulting an officer of the law," Thursday added.

Jack sank in defeat. "Whatever," he mumbled. "Just take me away and lock me up. Any jail is better than Bedevilled Island again."

Thursday nodded and the two police officers escorted Jack to the waiting patrol car. Once he was secure in the backseat, Thursday turned back to Baloo as the rest of the gang emerged from the Sea Duck. He smiled at Kit.

"That was some quick thinkin' ya did back there, kiddo," he said.

"It was nothin'," Kit said shyly.

"Nonsense. Not only did you save Baloo and Miss Cunningham and her daughter, you saved us, too."

"Huh? How'd he do that?" asked Baloo.

"Oh," said Thursday, "when your plane hit ours were kind of flew out of control and our pilot got knocked out. Kit here is the one who took the controls and got us flyin' right. He's a hero."

Baloo smiled and patted Kit on the head. "Well, that settles it, Little Britches," he said. "First thing tomorrow, you're goin' back to Throgmorton's flyin' school and gettin' your pilot's license!"

"Aw, who cares about that stuff," Ernie said. He made fists and shadow-boxed. "Tell us how you beat up those two huge guys!"

Kit suddenly looked guilty. Baloo sighed and put an arm around his boy, steering him away from the crowd. As he did so, Molly smacked Ernie, who yelped.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

Away from everyone else, Baloo knelt down in front of Kit. "Now, I didn't see what happened up there, Little Britches, but...if what I think happened is what happened....you and I have got some talkin' to do."

Kit nodded, and hugged the big bear he had come to know as his father. It was going to take a lot of work to fix what had happened over the past day. Their home had been burned to ground, and Kit had done something he never would have otherwise, but together, they'd get through it, he knew, as a family. To say it aloud would've sounded cliched and prtentious, but it was true, and Kit was grateful that Baloo thought the same, so nothing need be said between the two, at least not tonight.

The End 


End file.
